Jones's Moving Castle
by PersonaNoir
Summary: In which Arthur Kirkland, the sick owner of a teashop gets cursed by a scarf-wearing witch, which backfires which turns him - younger! Then the previous morning he walked on air with someone named Alfred! And Alfred is no ordinary person from the New World. What in Britannia is going on... Howl's Moving Castle, AU. USUK
1. Promising Starts

**Hey guys! My first fanfiction is a version of Howl's Moving Castle from Studio Ghibli and the book by Diana Wynne Jones (JONES!)! Please take care of me!**  
**noir**

* * *

_Jones's Moving Castle_  
_~Prologue~_

_In which we have our beginning_

* * *

There's a land called Britannia somewhere that's not on Earth. It's a place where Hogwarts and Busby's Chair really exist. And it's considered unfortunate to be born the eldest of three. Everyone knows that you will be able to see the Fae.

I'm one of these unfortunate people. Oh, but how rude of me! I'm Arthur Kirkland, the eldest of the Kirkland brothers, age twenty-three and owner of a teashop on the outskirts of Cornford, Britannia. I live alone making new types of tea, my brother Hong is a businessman who works in Aru and my youngest brother Peter works for that weird crazy woman with the frying pan who just got divorced from her husband, Rodderio or something. So I'm the only one at home most of the time. I haven't gone outside for nearly a year. Really, all I usually do is stay inside making tea, talking to the flying mint-coloured bunny that comes around everyday or reading books. Yes, the joy of english literature.

My father, Albion Kirkland, used to be married to my real mother, a girl named Alice who wore red glasses and always had her long hair in two long ponytails. She would hug me with her pale, skinny arms, her dress surrounding me with pink cloth as she waved me around.

But mother was fragile, like glass, and it didn't take long for her to be broken. She died on the Fourth of July, a day I had always resented. It was the day that the Fae would leave, it was the day Hong and Peter left, it was the day my father married his third oldest shop employee, a french woman named Francesca who had given birth to Peter when I was three and Hong was one, it was the day she left silently, it was the day Father died... Oh, the reasons for me to despise this day grew every second of my pitiful life, shut away from the strong perfume of the ladies outside that wafted everywhere.

So, today's the Fourth of July. It's been a year now since Father died, my last anchor to this broken reality of such a life. Yup, definitely not going outside today...

"Hey british jerk of jerks! You in there?" shouts a childish voice from the door. "Elizabeta's got cake!" I sigh, putting my book down. If anything, today was going to get worse from here on. Darn that Peter and that Hungarian. My other hand that was still holding my favourite teacup, a porcelain white one with gold designs and roses all over it. I put that down too, letting it land gently on the matching saucer on the oak table next to me before I headed to the door quietly. My head hurt terribly only from Peter's whining, my body as fragile as my mother's. In truth, I wasn't expecting to live this long. Although doctors believed it a stroke of luck, others believed -knew- it was the Fae keeping me alive for so long. But today they weren't around, so I feel like I'm drowning deeper into the cold, dark sea with every step that I take as I walk to the door and the source of my irritation.

I turn the doorknob with a trembling hand, the gold reflecting my face. I look terrible, seeing as I hadn't looked in a mirror for ages since father's death. It was sad really, me looking back at myself with my permanent scowling expression since that day, a melancholy shell with only emptiness inside, grabbing at straws to make sense of the crushing truth. I had accepted this long ago. The door slowly creaks open to reveal Peter in his usual sailor uniform outfit with his hands on his hips, looking at me with an annoyed look on his face. Really, I have no idea what Elizabeta was thinking with all her weird uniforms. One night Peter had come home for once wearing a toga and with little angel wings and a fake halo to top it all off. That woman was insane.

"Hey jerkface, Elizabeta gave you - you specifically, though I have no idea why - a cake, but the way she described you was hilarious! She said, "Peter, dear, give this cake to your poor brother, Arthur, to eat with some of his tea... Or else." But the last part was freaking me out and I ran all the way here, so, well... yeah, jerkface." Peter's words are like daggers through my skull, making me wince much more than I should have. The only words I picked up were cake and Elizabeta.

"Peter, where's..." I cough a bit before continuing, "Where's the cake?" He stares at me for a moment before replying.

"At Elizabeta's, duh. Since you're such a jerkface you should be able to drag your sorry butt over there, right?" I inwardly smile. I take this as a sign that Peter wants me to go outside for once. After all, I don't look too good with skin almost as white as milk. I tell him I'll go pick it up now, and he leaves not very gracefully. I decide to wear my blue cloak, picking it up from the hanger beside the door. Turning back to put my cup into the sink and to fold the corner of the page where I had stopped reading, I put my clothes on with a bit of difficulty, my body protesting tiredly. I open the door with a sigh, almost instantly regretting what I had done and covering my mouth and nose with a gloved hand as I did so.

So yes, that first step into the streets of Cornford was only the beginning.

* * *

**So how is it?**

**Kirkland Family Tree**

**Albion + Alice = Arthur, Hong**

**Albion + Francesca = Peter**

**Francesca is fem!France (alternate Fanny), Alice is fem!England, Hong is Hong Kong (his real name would be weird in an english speaking country) Arthur is England (aka Sophie Hatter), and Peter is Sealand.**

**Cheerio!**


	2. Falling into Yourself

**TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE DAY! **

**Good job, meself.**  
**noir**

* * *

_Jones's Moving Castle_  
_~Chapter One~_

_In which Arthur meets a rather handsome stranger and pours out his life story_

* * *

Ow.

My head hurts like... like somebody bashed it with a faucet or pipe... or maybe someone did...

Wait. Don't go blaming other people yet, Arthur Kirkland. You know it's a migraine. No one did anything except for your weak body. Gosh, I don't know how long I've been standing here actually, leaning against a red-bricked wall in the alley which would bring me to Elizabeta's. Could've been hours, really. Time passed by so fast... Well, to inform you of what happened, I was walking down the alley to the right of the teashop feeling absolutely tired and drained just from smelling a whiff of a woman's perfume as she passed, making me light-headed and dizzy. Bloody wanker of a woman. Lady, my foot. Of course, I didn't curse her aloud, as I believe in the role of a gentleman. Many say I don't look like one, with my eyebrows and all, but they're all just hypocrites. Really, the whole lot of them.

Well, after a few minutes the perfume began to get stronger and my body became weaker than it had been a few minutes ago. My mind began to spin and the world began to fall apart, the pitiful excuses of women and some sour-faced men blurring out of sight. Well, that's the only positive side effect I can think of. I walked into a side alley and slumped against the wall, drained beyond belief. I ran my hands through my hair. 'Get your act together!' my mind practically screamed. Gah, shut up.

And this led to where I am now. Don't get me wrong, it's not as bad as some of the previous happenings but...well, it happened at a bad time. I hate it when the faeries have to go for a bloody meeting, and unfortunately my friends represent Britannia. I slide down the wall, hoping that it would go away. I finally realise that I didn't know where I was. Strangely though, my mind doesn't panic. 'Arthur~ Go to sleep.' it coos. 'Peter's gotta find you sooner or later.'

"That sounds nice..." I whisper to myself, curling up into a ball. "And it's got to, not gotta..." I fall asleep, my head lying on my shoulder, struggling to find comfort in that cold, lonely alley. Trying to find comfort in myself and this raggedy excuse...of...a life...

Warmth. Comfort. Where am I?

I have almost never felt as comfortable as this. The last thing that I remember bearing a resemblance to this is cuddling up in my mother's arms. I feel like this is a dream, since my mother was gone, forever...

* * *

"Dead..." I mutter quietly to myself. Unfortunately, something just had to wake me up like some stupid frog-

"Hey! Dude, are you awake? I mean, I found you sleeping here and all, so maybe you're a hobo or something, but judging by your clothes I figured you weren't, so-" the source of the mindless chatter suddenly stops for some reason as I open my eyes slowly, taking in the image in front of my eyes.

"Woah. Oh, wait, sorry, it's just that your eyes are really pretty, you know." the man said, blue eyes staring from behind a pair of glasses into mine, boring into my soul. If that were possible, of course.

I stare back at him, my emerald eyes looking over him. His blonde hair is odd, with a strange strand that seemed to defy gravity, and he was wearing a large bomber jacket with the number fifty written on the shoulder. There's a lot of dark brown fur on the edges of the jacket, and he seems to wear a military uniform underneath it. He looks at me quizzically, tilting his head the tiniest bit.

'Who...Who are you?" I manage to cut the awkward silence. He grins, and I can see that it reaches his eyes, a sight I haven't seen for so long.

"Just call me Alfred, or Al." he says, as though we are already more than acquaintances. His voice is deep, with a foreign accent I can't place. "What happened to you, anyways?"

I notice that a navy blanket that felt like silk covered me up to my neck, giving me the warmth I had felt earlier. I feel inclined to tell the strange man, disregarding the fact that he may be a thief or a kidnapper. I open my mouth hesitantly before spilling my whole story.

* * *

"So here I am." I state bluntly.

"Elizabeta? You mean the crazy woman with the frying pan who makes her employees dress up in weird outfits?" he exclaims in surprise.

I nod, shifting my back slightly. "My brother works for her." Alfred made a look of sympathy for Peter, but I knew that if he ever actually got to meet the little devil he'd wish he didn't in the first place.

"So does mine. His name's Matthew." he added. "He owns a polar bear." I feel quite shaken at the prospect of someone being able to tame a polar bear to the point where it becomes a sort of pet. Alfred, sensing this, explains. "It's a really small one, though." Still. I realise that it has gotten far too late and stand up slowly, grabbing the blanket as I did so. It seemed that I hadn't fully recovered from my migraine yet, as I swayed a bit. Alfred held my shoulder to help me. I smiled at him, grateful for the kind act. I tell him my reason for standing up, bidding a quick farewell to him, but he holds me back.

"What if you collapse again?" he asks worriedly. I feel touched, but I didn't want to hold him back any longer. I shook my head before saying that it was fine, I didn't need any help, so-

That was when I didn't find my feet on the ground anymore.

* * *

**Well, Alfred's here, so... yup.**  
**noir**


	3. When We Meet

_Hey guys! Been away for so long, so I decided to bless you with a slightly longer chapter :DDDD Thanks for all the follows and favourites so far!_  
_Written while listening to random music box arrangements like kagerou days, mozaik role, Heian Alien and whatnot. I suggest you do the same :)_  
_noir_

* * *

_Jones's Moving Castle_  
_~Chapter Three~_

_In which we somehow shift to third person view, Arthur is personally escorted to Elizabeta's Bakery and listens to a story_

* * *

Now, Arthur Kirkland is the type of man who believes in magic, sparkles, fairies and whatnot, but he never truly experienced it. He would go into his basement wearing a black cloak, bringing his spellbooks bought cheap from the bookseller across the road, armed with a piece of so-called magical chalk, but it never really worked. You see, although he has the Sight, the power to see the Fae, he had almost no affinity for magic, or so he thought. So when he finds himself walking on air along with a blonde bespectacled stranger in the skies of Cornford, obviously by means of magic, he's not really impressed. In fact, right now he's too concerned about his wellbeing right now rather than taking his time to enjoy the scenery. Well, what would you do if you were stuck in his situation?

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF HIS MAJESTY FELICIANO VENEZIANO VARGAS, MAY HE LIVE LONG AND PROSPEROUS AND ALL THAT SHIT WITH A SIDE OF WHAT THE FUDGE ARE YOU DOING, YOU SODDING TOSSER?!" Well, screaming is probably the best option for Arthur at the moment anyway. Considering the fact that he's clinging to Alfred, the aforementioned handsome stranger while screaming bloody murder at the top of his already weak lungs, anybody would have done what he's doing. Alfred glances at him with a worried expression on his face, wondering what he's done wrong. Arthur glares back at him, shooting daggers, kitchen knives, swords, take your pick. Poor Alfred. If looks could kill, he would be a maimed mess of dismembered body parts by know. But we all know looks can't kill, so unfortunately for Arthur, and fortunately for us considering that if Alfred died we would have no story, Alfred is still very much alive and grinning, thank you very much. So it has no effect on our dear Alfred, and they continue to walk down when Alfred suddenly comprehends Arthur's words and reads the rather strained atmosphere, what with Arthur looking down occasionally with a horrified expression and sometimes glancing back up to glare at the continuously grinning Alfred with eyes of steel, so said victim of murderous glaring suddenly says, "Well, I'm accompanying you to the madwoman's bakery, what else? Dude, you could collapse again, and that would be so not cool. After all, I'm a hero, and heroes help people, right? So just think of me as your magical knight! And- Wait, Artie, are you mad at me?"

The blabbering "Hero" finally notices the looks that Arthur shoots at him, you know, the ones which could kill a poor cow on sight with a rather pathetic cry of "_moo_". But as we all know, Alfred is not a pathetic cow in distress, so he is not dead and instead sends the glaring gentleman a rather suspicious puppy-dog face, which he had perfected after years of begging his brother to pop out to buy him a double cheeseburger. And of course our dear protagonist is his usual self who cannot resist cute things like unicorns, and currently Alfred F Jones, so he gives up the murderous intent and instead becomes curious. He sends his gaze farther towards the horizon, obviously searching for Elizabeta's bakery, noting the five-minute distance between their current location. Basically, it was ask now or never.

"Firstly, my name is NOT Artie, it's Arthur, and secondly, how the hell are we walking on air? Is it a form of magic or sorcery or something else not previously mentioned? Please enlighten me, git." Arthur asks as calmly as possible, which is not really calm due to the fact that he was walking on air, and how are you supposed to speak calmly when you're doing that? Trust me, it's technically impossible. Alfred shifts his gaze away from Arthur, probably trying to avoid the question. Magician's rules, you know. So instead the sexual tension hangs in the air like the stench of rotting horse meat, at least, until the unintentional pair arrive at the bakery porch, lightly stepping onto the old wood together. The tension seems to grow stronger as they both just stare at the other, the smell of baking bread wafting out from under one of the doors when Alfred coughs awkwardly, pushing up his glasses.

"So, I suppose this is goodbye, then," says Arthur in his usual crisp english accent, purposely looking away. Alfred does the same, preparing to leave when suddenly he exclaims, "I'll see you again, right?"

Arthur is taken aback by the sudden inquiry, realising that perhaps the blue-eyed man had enjoyed his company. _Wait, no, nobody enjoys my company, _he thinks, shaking the impossible thought from his mind, before his mouth betrays him and follows his heart, the damn traitors.

"Of course." the dreaded duo of words slips from his careless lips, lightening the other's expression as he waves a simple farewell, jumping off from the high balcony into the night. _Night?!_ Arthur realises this, and so runs into the bakery as the warm scent of pastries and cakes greets him without bothering to check for Alfred after the supposedly suicidal jump from the balcony. He is greeted by Elizabeta with open arms (and a lot of flour) and notes that the workers had chosen to cosplay as characters from the new book, Howl's Moving Castle by the new uprising author, Matthew Williams, who is also working at the bakery.

* * *

Alfred F Jones steals a glance back up at the open door of the bakery and smirks. _Interesting night,_ he grins, walking into the shadows while humming Merry-Go-Round of Life, a song written by his friend, Kiku Honda, as he turns around, hands in his pockets.

_I hope I get to meet him again._

* * *

"Hey, british jerk of jerks, where the hell were you?! I was worried sick, bastard..." Peter looks at the floor, embarrassed at the sudden display of affection. Arthur smiles, happy that Peter had worried. After all, most of the time it was him doing the worrying. He ruffles his hair as Peter holds up a large purple box, with a small velvet ribbon and a handle for easy portability and the words "Elizabeta's Bakery" on the sides. Peter places it delicately in Arthur's weak hands before turning back to Elizabeta.

"I've gotta go now, Liz, see you tomorrow." Elizabeta smiles, wishing them a quick goodbye before turning back to the five-tiered cake she was decorating with green icing. Arthur makes a mental note to bring some of that relaxing chamomile tea he had brewed earlier for Elizabeta. She looks like she has been working on that particular cake for hours on end, and gentlemen would do anything to help, after all. Peter grabs Arthur's left hand and leads him downstairs to the cafe, with lots of people flitting about. Arthur hears some of the customers and workers whispering rumours of the Witch of the North - he isn't too surprised to hear this, it is nearing Hall O'Ween so he really doesn't blame them. He lets Peter drag him outside into the cold, autumn air. The few streetlamps light the street as they walk hand in hand towards the teashop.

As they walk on the bridge that brings them closer to the middle of Cornford Peter slices the thick tension and says, "So how did you get here?" Arthur is dragged out of his thoughts about unicorns and cows dying after being shot at with daggers and glances at Peter before quickly sending his gaze back to the area in front of him. Peter notices that Arthur's a bit red in the face, but passes it off as the light from the streetlamp (yes, they have differently coloured streetlamps in Britannia, the oddest being rainbow and black polka-dots) and is about to say something when Arthur opens his mouth hesitantly.

"I... I met this guy..." Arthur begins to explain what had happened to him this cold autumn day. Peter listens as his face contorts into an expression of disbelief, growing more and more interested as Arthur continues. Arthur finishes his story and a small cloud of cold breath is released into the air. Arthur watches it for a second before turning back to look at Peter, having fully crossed the bridge. They're making their way to the teashop now. Peter frowns for a moment before breathing in.

"Jerkface, let me tell you a story. I don't tell stories to jerks often, so you'd better listen up!" Arthur shakes his head. Peter was so cute sometimes, even if he did make Arthur angry most of the time. Peter begins his tale with a small sigh.

* * *

"So listen up. You know how Britannia is ruled by our weirdo king, Feliciano Veneziano Vargas? Now, he has brother. The kid's name is Lovino Romano Vargas, and he's got a pretty nasty attitude. He got raised by this king from some other country, Espagna or something, and I'll admit it, this dude - name's Antonio Fernandez Carriedo - was a bit of a pedophile, so he fell in love with Lovino and all that shit. So shit happened. The Witch of the North randomly turned Antonio into a scarecrow, you know, all these damn stereotypes about witches and scarecrows. Whole country's in chaos currently, what with Lovino and Feliciano and his lover, that Holy Roman bloke who's always eating wurst. And some wizard named Jones pops up randomly in the midst of it all, and the King's trying to get him to help them find Antonio. Usual stuff. So the poor guy is torn between helping and not helping. Plus he's got some strange rumours that he kidnaps guys. Normal shit in Britannia."

"...That was quite a short story, Peter."

"Got a problem with that, jerk?"

Arthur did have a problem. Well, the fact that Alfred's last name was Jones, and that he really didn't want to get kidnapped no matter how much he wanted to see a wizard's place. He ponders this as they round a corner, just up the street from the teashop. Peter had obviously told him this out of worry that this "stranger" character is in fact Jones, and actually Arthur is a bit concerned about the matter as well. Alfred hadn't seemed to have any evil intent... But what does Arthur know?

Nothing, actually.

* * *

_How was it? Hope it was good enough to make up for such a long absence. Really, forgive me for perhaps making Sealand OOC - I don't know what he's like, due to the fact that I haven't really watched Hetalia, since I'm only on episode twelve. I get all the characters' personalities from the fanfictions I read. I didn't think that so many people would actually read this... Plus I have no idea how Italy became the king of Britannia, and sorry to all Spamano-haters..._  
_noir_


	4. Days of Doubt

_Guys I'm not dead. SO much drama has happened! My parents found out I was a yaoi fangirl (I was a closet yaoi fangirl previously) and banned me from the internet AND HETALIA! ;( So I'm uploading this really short failure in secret. I may post new chapters very, very slowly, and no, this story is not dead, and plus it's still Chinese New Year. SO forgive me! Also, there's this really awesome UKUS dark!fic by sachi-sama, called Devour, and it's AWESOME. Go read it. I dare you._

_noir_

* * *

_Jones's Moving Castle_  
_~Chapter Four~_

_In which we meet a particular antagonist who isn't really an antagonist, and Arthur doubts himself and is confronted by said not-really-antagonist_

* * *

Arthur closes the door to his small shop with a sigh. He still thinks of what Peter has said, but tells himself not to let it go to his head too much. He manages to convince himself that no, Alfred is not who Peter was talking about as he places his coat on the hanger beside the door which, to Arthur's chagrin, is taller than himself. He dusts himself off and walks up to the counter, where he places the cake that Elizabeta had made with a soft thump. He begins to open the box carefully and takes the dessert out before gazing at it with surprised eyes. The cake is simple, really, with perfectly smooth icing covering it on all sides. There is absolutely no decoration whatsoever, and Arthur finds that he prefers it this way. He smiles and places it in the pantry. He walks over to the front of the shop and is about to switch off the lights when the bells hanging above the door ring in an almost frantic manner that makes Arthur turn around quickly, his face contorted into an expression of neutrality.

An extremely tall man enters the shop, much, much taller than the coat hanger. A thick scarf is wrapped around his neck, and his face seems to be set in an almost permanent smile of supposed innocence. His hair is so pale and his body large that makes Arthur rightly assume that he is from up north, far away from the island of Britannia. He wears a tan coat with small golden medals over his broad chest. The stranger begins to speak with an accent Arthur can't place before he could say anything.

"Have you got any Chinese tea?" He asks, all the while grinning which creeps out Arthur more than it should have. Arthur numbly shakes his head, almost fearfully. The other's face seems to darken for a moment before lighting up again. He strolls over to Arthur with a gait that seems much too laid back, his scarf blowing out from behind him. Arthur shivers for a moment. The air around the strange customer feels almost chilly.

"Um- no... n-no, we don't have any Chinese tea, sir. I suggest you go to the market if you wish to look for tea of that sort." Arthur stutters. He is already backed up against the counter with the northerner looming over him. The other man is increasingly intimidating, no matter how childish he looks. He gains a strange glint in his eye and he walks instead to the pot in which Arthur brews tea of all sorts. Arthur stays frozen, leaning against the counter with a blank face. He grabs the counter and forces himself to trudge to the man's side. The man is looking at the pot with an unreadable expression. What comes out of his mouth surprises Arthur.

"I have many names." He begins. "Many, many names. But you can call me Ivan. Ivan Braginsky..." He turns to face Arthur, who is beginning to panic. Ivan Braginsky?! The Russian witch known for single-handedly creating the Soviet Union? Supposedly he'd taken over the lands of Lithuania, Estonia and the tiny land of Latvia. Arthur has heard rumours of the witch wanting to take over Britannia, as well, but he'd shoved them off with a shrug. Oh, how he should have listened! He berates himself in his mind while in reality, the witch himself looks at him, amused. Arthur feels like crying. He'd already had enough of all this, thank you.

"I understand that you have met Alfred? He was always such an irritating man... Too bad you met him. I knew he just couldn't leave a poor, ill person such as yourself out in an alley. He should have..." Ivan smiles. He reaches out a hand and stops just before Arthur's forehead. His eyes look almost sympathetic, but Arthur doesn't believe that for a moment. "He should have joined me, da?"

Ivan grabs his forehead viciously. Arthur feels himself falling from somewhere far, far away... His eyesight is failing, his knees are buckling, and there is suddenly no feeling in his body. All this shit happening in one day was too much for the poor tea-shop owner. He can feel himself dropping into darkness, and welcomely lets it take him. Nothing... He feels nothing...

As he slips into unconsciousness, he feels a somewhat gentle finger upon his forehead, which feels... hesitant, to Arthur, and hears words he does not understand. He wonders why him, why everything happens to him of such a sort. He wants someone to save him, to rescue him from this. His mind reaches one word. _Alfred..._

"_Спать, а когда вы проснулись, пусть ваше прошлое настигнет вас еще раз ... Все стали с со мной один день, в конце концов. Считайте себя счастливым ..._ Da?" The Russian's whispered words of a language Arthur has never heard before send shivers down his bones, from head to toe, until finally, finally...

He feels nothing.

Oh, how he would come to crave that empty feeling.

* * *

Ivan walks out of the shop with a laugh upon his lips. He knows that he is hated everywhere, but all he wants is just one thing, just one thing. He wants to see that brown, long hair again, and the red of silk clothes, and hear the strange tick, that "aru" one more time, just... just once more. He breathes in the cold air, and trembles in the cold. How he hates the cold. He knows he is scared of it. He pulls his coat tighter around his body. But he'll endure it, he'll face the cold. He'll do anything if it mean seeing him again, one more time. He smiles, a melancholic smile of sadness, of misery. But also of hope, of longing for one thing. He looks up at the night sky, without stars, without the moon, covered with the smoke of the trains of Britannia.

"We'll meet again soon, Yao. _Da?"_

* * *

_I know, fail chapter. IT'S NOT DEAD, THOUGH! :D_

_noir_


	5. Into Your Arms

___I AM BACK. Because of my ban I can only upload this at my grandma's house and it's currently a holiday here in Malaysia, so here you guys go!  
PS: It's my birthday soon, guys. April the fourth! _

___noir_

* * *

___Jones's Moving Castle_  
_~Chapter Four~_

___In which Arthur realises the consequences of his curse, and sets out through the Waste_

* * *

Arthur wakes up to the sound of birds. Which he opens his eyes to because there were no birds in his part of Britannia.

"Wha-" He stands up abnormally quickly, strange for a man of his health. He stares around him, and slowly begins to realise he is not home. Far from there. Really far from home. He flips his head this way and there, seeing only partially grassy plains and the blue sky, which is normally obscured by the tall buildings of Cornford. He feels the grass under his feet, which couldn't have possibly happened because he always wore shoes before going out, and he begins to panic like a sensible person in his situation would.

"WHERE THE BLOODY HELL AM I?!" He shouts to the sky above, waving his arms around him. He suddenly notices his voice is different. He squeaks out words, and listens for any particular change. "Higher?" He mutters to himself. He sounds like a child of four, which was so long ago even he does not remember exactly how it sounded. But that isn't the only problem he faces. He stares at the ground with large, round eyes. It seems unusually closer... He pulls out a single blade of grass and compares it to his hand. His arms tremble as he realises what has happened.

"IS ANYBODY OUT THERE GOING TO EXPLAIN HOW I GOT YOUNGER?!"

Then, after more inspection.

"I'M A HALF-HUMAN HALF-BUNNY HYBRID?! Okay, actually these ears are pretty soft..."

* * *

After several hours of simple wandering, he stops and thinks about where he is. He rules out the possibility of still being in Britannia, or in any other country, for Espana is sunny and full of tomato fields, and he doesn't see any tomatoes anywhere. He glances up at the sky, the blue sky without hint of any other buildings or the claustrophobia-inducing closeness of every building. No grey smoke that reminds him of the trains that rumble across the tracks outside of his small tea-shop in downtown Cornford. He wonders, and wonders, until eventually...

"The Waste? How did I get here?" He asks himself. It begins to get colder, and Arthur only wears a simple white cloth and a green cloak. He grabs his new ears and brings it closer to him for warmth. He sits down on a grassy patch, and rubs his hands together. He breaths out a cloud of cold air. He begins to think of his life so far and how it ended up like this._ If only I actually lived like a normal person instead of moping around my tea shop like some pale ghost..._ He realises that his dependence on having a house and not being able to go outside is not helping with this problem. He thinks of Peter, and of Leon, and of how worried they might be once they realise his disappearance. He realizes that Ivan Braginsky had something to do with this. He thinks as he starts to fall into a deep, deep sleep.

"Dude, is he okay?" "I believe so, Alfred. He seems to be regaining consciousness, if I am not mistaken." "He's obviously awake! The awesome me deems him so!" "Shut up, you stupid excuse for a fire." "Specs! How dare you insult the embodiment of awesome..." Arthur wakes (yet again) to the squabble of several people. He sits up, grabs ahold of the blanket beginning to fall off of him and stares at two people he very much recognized, the first being Elizabeta's recently divorced husband and Alfred Jones, someone Arthur does not want to see at this time. Then there is the really weird fire burning upon three logs, which is STARING at Arthur with scarlet eyes that reminds Arthur of a vampire. The first thing Arthur does is very similar to his first reaction to awaking in an unfamiliar place. Just without the sensible. He squeals.

"Aw, is bunny boy scared?" Taunts the fire. Arthur glares at him, which fails.

He retorts, with much sarcasm. "Yes, oh what a really scary fire! I'm so scared I might as well find the nearest source of water and dump it on you!" The fire looks horrified at this.

"Please excuse Gilbert. He's one of the most troublesome fire demons I've ever met." Alfred explains. Arthur hopes he doesn't recognise him, and realizes that perhaps he should keep his identity secret. "What's your name, little one?" Alfred asks. Arthur's ears twitch at his words.

"Excuse me, but I'm not exactly a "little one". I'm much older than you!" Alfred chuckles at this. Roderich simply pushes his glasses up his nose in his usual aristocratic fashion.

'Well, sir, even if you are older than us, may I ask what you were doing out here in the Waste? It is a dangerous place at night." Roderich thinks for a moment, and continues. "Or are you some magical creature of some sort?" "Actually, I am. I am a distant relative of the Flying Mint Bunny, and I seek shelter." Arthur conjures. He decides on acting this way for at least a while until his curse wears off. Alfred beams, and picks Arthur up.

"All right, guys! We've got a new family member!" Alfred exclaims waving Arthur around. He hits Alfred's hands in an attempt to get him to put him down. "We'll need to introduce him to everyone!" "So, this is Roderich Edelstein (he's older than me, actually) and he's my apprentice. Recently divorced, and he fights a lot with Gil. He's prissy though, so don't piss him off. He's scary when that happens..." He whispers to Arthur as he gestures to Roderich, who looks as though he knows everything Alfred is telling Arthur about him. Alfred spins around and turns to the fire-Gilbert-whatever.

"This is Gilbert Beilschmidt, fire demon and-" Suddenly, Gilbert disappears, only to appear behind Alfred - as a human. With white hair and the same scarlet eyes, Arthur has no doubt this is the same man.

"The embodiment of everything awesome, of course. Pleased to meet ya, bunny boy!" Arthur basically feels Roderich facepalming in the background. Alfred laughs, and finally points to himself.

"And I'm Alfred F Jones, wizard of the New World! So, what's your name?" Arthur contemplates this for a moment.

"Artie. Just Artie."

* * *

_So, your thoughts on the characters? Prussia seemed like the best choice for demon, and I just wanted to throw Austria Prissy MacPrissy Priss in there somewhere. Also, if you read the book, you know what Alfred thinks of Arthur right now._

_noir_


	6. Assurance and Terror

So, everybody, I chose Artie as Arthur's name because I wanted to make him really irritated about it later. Because of how Alfred says it, of course. Plus, I think they may or may not find out about Arthur's identity early on so that I can get on with the romance, but you just wait. Plus, early update because you guys are awesome!

noir

* * *

_Jones's Moving Castle_  
_~Chapter Five~_

_In which we learn that Alfred's cleaning skills are not exactly top notch, and that most, if not any at all, fire demons speak German_

* * *

"So, now that you're one of us, you need to do some work around here." Roderich explains, while Arthur listens intently to his words. "You should be able to clean up the rooms, and I think you'd best do Alfred's first. His is always the worst, and I usually get around to doing it first because it's exceedingly hard to clean everything up. Got it?"

"Yes. Also, one more thing, mister, what should I address you all as?" Arthur asks. As a previously esteemed gentleman, he wants to know just how he should call any of them, even Gilbert. It is in his nature to do so, so he asks.

"Well..." Roderich runs his hand through his hair. "I suppose you could just call me by my name. Alfred would definitely want you to call him just that, and Gilbert... Just call him any insulting name you can think of, or you'll add to his already huge ego. I'll go fetch the cleaning materials, so you just wait here."

Roderich stands up, and opens the door beneath the stairs. Arthur had slept the night in a large, makeshift bed just next to the said room, waking up with yet the same blanket from the previous day upon him. He feels tired, and doesn't really actually want to clean anything at the moment, but he does what he always does, and accepts his work. Roderich soon returns, a pale blue bucket filled with water in one hand and a mop in the other. He hands them to Arthur, who almost buckles over with the heaviness of the two tools, before gesturing to the upper floor.

"You'll find Alfred's room, the third to the right. There's a broom and a dustbin inside, so don't hesitate to use them. I need to find Gilbert... Are you okay with the bucket?" Arthur nods, even if his answer isn't true in the slightest and begins to trudge up the stairs. Meanwhile, Roderich stands in front of the castle's entrance, turns the dial to the red area and heads off into the Palace of King Feliciano. He sighs.

* * *

Upstairs, Arthur is struggling to comprehend the state of Alfred's room. It is filthy, with dust covering almost every inch of it, and several boxes of a new fangled cuisine invented by the King, called pizza, litter the floor. Many burger wrappers from the New World cover his bed, and upon further inspection, Arthur finds even more in Alfred's closet and drawers. He is horrified. What kind of man would leave his room in such a state? What kind of man would eat so many burgers and pizzas and simply leave them everywhere? Arthur shoves such disturbing thoughts away and sets to work. He opens the lowest of Alfred's cabinets, only to find... Arthur isn't sure as to what he finds. He snaps the cabinet shut and instead, cleans the rest of the room, never going back to the cabinet, leaving it dusty and untouched.

* * *

"Gilbert..." Roderich sighs yet again. He has scoured the Palace for an hour, and hopes that Arthur has finished cleaning the monstrosity called the room of Alfred Jones. He simply cannot find Gilbert anywhere, and has asked almost every Palace maid, including Lili and the girls from the East, about his whereabouts, and has discovered nothing. Gilbert has been gone since the beginning of the day, and Roderich is sure that this is Gilbert's way of irritating him because he hadn't allowed him to buy beer. Roderich has no choice but to wander the streets of Cornford, in an attempt to find the fire demon.

He steps out of the Palace, nodding to one of the guards outside whose name was Vash, before entering the hustle and bustle of the Cornflrd streets. He sees nothing that alerts him to Gilbert's prescence. He moves through the crowd as casually as he can. He passes several shops of no importance, when he stops at a certain one. He feels a tug at his gut, and his gut instincts are not to be ignored. He turns to face the shop he is in front of, reading the words "Kirkland's Tea" in bright gold lettering on top. He pushes the front door open, ignoring the "closed" sign on the glass.

* * *

Alfred, meanwhile, whereas everybody else in his strange family (or so he likes to call his wandering group) is working, he is at Elizabeta's Bakery, looking for his brother Matthew. Matthew, as he remembers, works there. He remembers the last time he'd gone there, during which his brother, wearing a maid outfit, narrowly missed being molested by some random Korean man who said that he was claiming his boobs. Alfred fumes at this. If Mattie had boobs then he would've told Alfred! Right...? He stands outside of the shop, looking at the little chalkboard on which are the words:

_**NO COSPLAY AS OF TODAY**_

Alfred grins, relieved that he doesn't have to see his brother in a ridiculous outfit. He walks casually into the shop, and spots his brother almost instantly. He is standing behind the counter, with his friend Kiku Honda, as Elizabeta mans the counter itself. He strolls up to him, and pokes him on the shoulder. Matthew flinches, surprised that somebody actually poked him. He turns sharply, almost slapping Alfred in the face with his slightly longer hair.

"Ah, Al, you surprised me," Matthew smiles. "What can I do for you?"

"Well," Alfred frowns for a moment, before continuing. "Just wanted to see what my bro is doing. I need to check up on you, you know!"

"Because that's what heroes do, yes," Matthew turns back to the table behind him. "Kiku and I are just writing a sort of fanfic-" Kiku waves his hands frantically at this. "sorry, sequel to the book I wrote. Remember?"

"You mean the one you obviously based on me? Cause seriously, am I that vain? Mattie, I only spend an hour in the bathroom every morning!

"That's more than normal people would," Matthew turns to Kiku, who nods, simply confirming his suspicions. "Al, you wouldn't come all the way here if you didn't need something. What's up?"

"Matt, you took a course on Mythical Creatures back in college, right?"

* * *

"Peter, you all right now?"

"Jerk, jerk, jerkface Arthur! Where is he?!"

Roderich is surprised at what he sees. What he sees is Gilbert, in his human form, holding a young boy with eyebrows as spectacular as Artie's by the shoulders, and... comforting him, which was unusual for Gilbert. The boy is crying, and Gilbert is trying desperately to get him to stop. Roderich decides to wait patiently for him to calm down before stepping into Gilbert's view.

"Prüßen?" Gilbert looks up at this. Roderich? Roddy never calls him that now...

"Ja, Österrich. Was?" Roderich asks about the child, supposedly named Peter, in his native language. After all, the language of the fire demons is German. Somehow. Well, Gilbert is sure that every other fire demon spoke Prussian. Roderich isn't too sure about that.

Gilbert answers hesitantly. "Well, Österrich, this little man is my old friend. Used to be up in the night sky too, actually. Became human when a man named Albion caught him and wished for him to be one. Old man died after that. Peter's oldest brother... is missing."

"I see... Peter," The little boy looks up at this and see Roderich for the first time. "We'll find your brother for you. All right?" Peter nods. Roderich turns to Gilbert with a sharp turn of his heels, and smiles.

"And we know exactly where to start."

* * *

"It's completely plausible that Artie is a relative of the Flying Mint Bunny, Al. Completely. If you want I can go to your... castle, check him out, and then would you be happy?"

"Sure. Thanks Matt!"

* * *

"What the bloody hell- I'm not cleaning up the bathroom. Nope."

Arthur shakes his head, places his now well-used mop outside of the room undneath the stairs and walks back to his bed. He lies down, thinking about just what Alfred and Roderich and even Gilbert are doing. He feels utterly alone, but at least it gives him some time to think-

"Wait, Al, so-"

"Artie!" Arthur jumps up at this. He now completely regrets telling Alfred to call him Artie. He should have asked him to call him Oliver, or something- Wait, not two Alfreds! This is turning into Arthur's personal hell.

"Hello, Artie. I-I'm Matthew, Matthew Williams. I'm Alfred's step brother." The clone says. Arthur stands up, and shakes his outstretched hand politely.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Williams." Matthew smiles, and whispers to him.

"I-I have to ask you a few questions. Sit down, please." Arthur complies. He sits down on his bed as Matthew crouches down. Alfred watches them with amusement.

"Of course. What is it you want to ask me about?" Matthew thinks about it for a while.

"Well, um. Do you know Arthur Kirkland?"

* * *

_Dun dun dun, will Matt learn that Arthur is... well, Arthur? How will Arthur respond? Drumroll for a cliffhanger, please!_ _Plus, I'm trying to make new friends here on , so if anyone wants to contact me or wants to ask about the story just send an email to _persona blanc noir gmail. com_ without any spaces! I'd be happy if you review, but I can't really respond because I need to switch off the computer and can access my email through my iPad but not the internet, so if you review, then send me an email if you want to be friends, just do it! I'd love a new friend! Bye!  
_

_noir_


	7. A Deeper Meaning

_Guys as I seem to keep on saying I'm not dead. So, anyway, I have a question for you guys: Do you want Prussia and Austria to be romantically involved or just friends by the end of this fic? Because I don't really mind either (even though I do ship PruAus) and I want your opinion on this. Thanks! Warning: Involves the swinging of hair and the portrayal of hair as a weapon of mass destruction._

_noir_

* * *

_Jones's Moving Castle_  
_~Chapter Six~_

_In which an interrogation of sorts takes place and Gilbert questions the end of Roderich's marriage with Elizabeta_

* * *

"Do you know Arthur Kirkland?"

Arthur is shaking now. He doesn't really want to answer the question, since it is pertaining to him: after all, he is Arthur Kirkland himself, and he doesn't even know how he'd gotten this far without being recognised by anybody. The eyebrows are a big hint to his true identity. He smiles politely, hoping to cover up his hesitation. He knits his eyebrows together, as if in deep thought, and then finally says, "No. Not that I've heard of. Why? Who is he?" He almost feels Matthew deflate.

"O...Oh. Thank you anyway. So, what kind of relation do you have to the Flying Mint Bunny?"

Arthur thinks hard for a while, thinking back to whatever his dear friend had said about his cousins. "Well, uh, I can't fly, and I'm not really mint-coloured, now, am I? Flying Mint Bunny is a distant relative of mine, but we are close friends. We keep in touch." Matthew begins to get excited. He is a fan of the Flying Mint Bunny, as there is only one in existence and he is known to only show himself to the purest of humans. And this is a relative of his!

"What's this about Artie?" Alfred asks, walking up from behind Matthew. Matthew turns around quickly and slaps Alfred in the face with his hair. Alfred flinches.

"Matt, ya really need to cut your hair soon. It can kill, Matt. That hair can kill." Matthew shakes his head wildly, almost hitting Alfred yet again. Arthur is fortunately out of range. He does not really appreciate being slapped in the face with hair either.

"I need to use it to fight against your stupidity, Al. Anyway, Francis says it suits me." Arthur shudders at the mention of the Frenchman's name. He hates Francis with all his might, especially because he is the brother of Francesca, and the only one who knows where she is and why she ran away from Albion. Matthew knows Francis? He thinks. He scowls and tries to shake the thought out of his mind. Instead, he asks a question.

"Who is this Arthur?"

Matthew smiles sadly, and Arthur can feel the desperation rolling off him in waves. "Arthur was a very good friend of mine. Even if he was a bit picky and stuck-up-" Arthur almost splutters in protest. How dare he! "He was always sick, and he was a really nice person. Once you got past his tough outer shell, the one he put up since his father died, he's actually really kind and he cares for his friends a lot. I don't want him to think I'm not his friend, though. He always had a cloud of self-doubt around him, he did. Always self-depreciating. He-" Matthew chokes at his next words. "He's missing. Gone. Without anybody treating him nicely in return. I- I don't know what I'll do if he's... if he's gone and died without us knowing. Alone. Without anyone telling him, it's all right. It's not all right, is it?" He rubs his eyes, trying to wipe off tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes.

"Matt..." Alfred begins, holding out his hand as if hesitating to touch his brother. Matthew sighs.

"Sorry for the outburst, guys. Anyway, Artie. Can you at least keep a look out for him? He's blonde, thin, just a tiny bit shorter than Alfred here and with big bushy eyebrows..." He points at Arthur's well-endowed ones. "Exactly like yours!"

Arthur gives him a shaky smile. Yes, he thinks. Exactly like mine...

* * *

Roderich decides he has enough of his companion's whining.

"Look!" He exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. "If you hadn't disappeared to god knows where you wouldn't have had to walk back! Anyway, you're a fire demon for god's sake. A fire demon. You should be able to just fly back!"

Gilbert scratches the back of his neck. "Look, Specs, there are humans here, no offence-"

"If you want to get back in one piece you will shut up now." Roderich stares ahead, focusing on the road in front of him. Who is he to whine? he thinks, trying to express his anger by playing Chopin in his mind. At least that calms him down. Gilbert is quiet for once, as they walk briskly through the hustle and bustle of Cornford. Roderich can feel the wind hit his face, hitting him with memories he'd rather forget instead of cherish. He wishes he didn't have such fond memories of the place. He is just about to knock on the door of the moving castle when Gilbert grabs his arm.

"Why did you get a divorce with Liz?" Roderich stares at him. Gilbert would never ask that, as he knew Gilbert wasn't one to ask about feelings. He'd probably rather say it was girly shit. But as Roderich looks at his face, he knows that Gilbert is serious. Roderich is always one to read faces. It is a survival tactic he'd learnt when he was a child.

"I... I-" Roderich stammers. "This is ridiculous, Gilbert. You're going to blackmail me for whatever I say-"

"No!" Gilbert exclaims, looking hurt. "I really wanted to know! Even though that woman is obviously the Spawn of Satan, you were in love with her. You loved her, Roddy. If so, why did you run away? Why run to a stranger from a different land? I know you didn't even know Alfred when you became his apprentice. I thought you loved her. Love is supposed to make you do stupid things, right? You did something stupid but it wasn't for the sake of love! Did you even really love her?"

Roderich stares blankly at the ground. "I... I did." He says. He says it so softly he knows that the wind could've swept it away with its breath. "I did." He exhales.

"I loved her." He continues. "But not in the way you'd imagine. It could switch around from platonic to brotherly, but it seems..." He laughs a little, a quiet, empty laugh. "She seems to have mistook it for romantic love. I didn't have the guts to tell her. But I never had the guts before, so there's no reason that I'd suddenly have my wits about me and confess. So I had to get married to her. Not because I truly loved her as a lover should, but because I didn't want to see her cry."

Gilbert runs a hand through his hair. They wait there for a little while, silent, leaning against the wall - not even a sound was heard from them. Eventually it seemed that Gilbert grew impatient.

"I saw her today." He tells Roderich. The shorter man doesn't say anything in return, nor does he move a muscle. "She... She was happy." Roderich smiles faintly, and if anyone who didn't know him well saw him at that moment they would swear that he wasn't. "Then it seems I have accomplished what I'd begun. Shall we go in?"

Gilbert follows him inside, his mind whirling with wonder and confusion.

* * *

_...To me Gilbert can be sentimental and sensitive at times. Not all brashness and more deeper meaning, no?_

_noir_


	8. Another Story

_I'm back! So, I've got a bunch of questions for you guys. First off, do you want this story to just be the length of the original howl's moving castle or should I extend the plot into e other books and add in a bit of my own? Just tell me in a review or PM, kay? Also, this isn't really a question, but I'm so happy with you guys that for the thirtieth reviewer I WILL do a request fic. When I reply to your review I'll ask you about it and we can discuss it through PM. Okay end of the ridiculously long note. On to the story!_

_noir_

* * *

_Jones's Moving Castle_

_~Chapter Seven~_

_In which Arthhur does not meet a scarecrow and Roderich does, and Feliciano asks a favour of his Royal Magician_

* * *

Matthew stays over for lunch.

Alfred says that his burgers are delicious and gives one to poor Matthew - then the boy suddenly takes a bottle of maple syrup out from the pantry and pours it all over the plate. I, being a gentleman, even if I was stuck in the body of my younger self, does not question this choice of food topping. Instead I shake my head slightly and go without lunch, deciding to make some scones later after threatening Gilbert into submission.

I ask Roderich whether we have to let the clothes dry. He tells me that occasionally, yes, he does set the clothes out to dry but in this sort of weather it'd be illogical to do so. He explains that usually Gilbert does the drying. I see the sense in doing so. Roderich heads outside, saying that he needs some fresh air. I nod and head to my bed, as I has nothing else to do but fall asleep to the hearty laughs and chuckles coming from Matthew and Alfred.

* * *

When the wind grows stronger and the days become dryer, Roderich likes to go outside to breathe in the cold air.

It's calming to him. He doesn't know why, but the days leading up to the last season of the year are his favourite. The grass around him is brown and red, reminding him that this too is Matthew's favourite season. He smiles. Matthew is a better person to talk to than his brother. Gilbert too likes having Matthew around, as the boy replendishes his supply of maple syrup.

Roderich crouches down in the middle of the field. Gilbert had stopped the moving castle in a large clear area devoid of trees, but Roderich can see trees about twenty feet away. In all actuality, Roderich doesn't mind nature. Just because of his high and mighty upbringing people assume that he hates going outside. Roderich loves the sunlight and the warmth but the cool of the autumn brings the freshest air.

He simply sits there, looking into the forest. He knows not to go inside, reminding himself of his terrible sense of direction. He tugs at his scarf. Then he hears a peculiar sound.

_Plonk. Plonk. Plonk._

The sound of a stick hitting the hard ground greets him.

* * *

Gilbert suddenly feels the urge to walk outside.

Alfred and Matthew are both asleep. Artie is frantically tryng to clean up the mess they have made, having made a plate of cinder briskets which he called scones a few minutes earlier. Realising that he has nobody to irritate, he remembers that Roddy has gone outside. He snickers quietly, opening the door to a strange sight indeed.

"Specs...? Are you talking to a scarecrow? Mein gott, what are you doing?"

Roderich turns around. He sees Gilbert, frozen in shock as he points at the scarecrow. He chuckles at the sight. Standing up, he points at the scarecrow.

"Who do you think he is, Gil?"

The scarecrow is a pitiful sight. With a tomato for a head and mere cloth on a stick, he doesn't look like a scarecrow at all. His clothes are in tatters and he has no eyes, but Gilbert can feel the tomato head smiling cheerfully. Gilbert is still reminded of his old friend.

"Toni, what in the world happened to you?!" Gilbert exclaims. The tomato shakes itself slowly from side to side in a sort of melancholy way. He tries to move his hands, but because his arms are merely sticks and unmoveable, they stay immobile. Gilbert sighs.

"You're always getting yourself in trouble, aren't you, Toni."

"You yourself have gotten into enough trouble to last me nine lifetimes-" Roderich cuts in. Gilbert clamps his hand over his mouth and mutters something about keeping quiet and it being a serious situation. Gilbert walks around the scarecrow, inspecting his condition as the fallen leaves crunch below his feet.

"What I think he needs is some new clothes. We'll bring him inside. Is that okay, Roddy?" Roderich nods his head. The only time he would heed Gilbert's demands is if it is as serious as it is now. He heads inside, walking in a brisk manner. After a few moments, he pops his head out the door.

"Should I wake Alfred up? He might be able to help." Gilbert answers with an affirmative, and Roderich sets about the difficult task of waking a certain Alfred F Jones up.

* * *

Eventually, Alfred opens his eyes to the smell of a hamburger. He smiles drowsily and reaches a hand out for it. Unfortunately for him, Roderich has other plans. He stomps out the door, leaning against the doorframe with a scowl upon his face. Alfred sees Artie, Gilbert and Matthew standing and... hiding something? Alfred is determined to find out (and gain possession of the burger) so he walks past Roderich into the cool air.

When Alfred reaches the group, he almost laughs at their faces.

Matthew has a strange mix of relief, sadness, confusion and amusement upon his face, making him frown and scowl and look like he's chuckling inwardly. Gilbert is serious, but Gilbert's serious face is so hard and cold Alfred is only amused because it is an expression he doesn't see often. Artie's face looks like one huge caterpillar is upon it as he looks at the object of his attention. Finally, Alfred turns to see what they are looking at as Roderich steps up behind him.

The only thing he thinks is why the tomato couldn't have been a burger. Then the next thought to enter his head is something almost everybody else deems entirely idiotic.

"Artie, could you just sorta run in and get me a marker? Just a black one, you know-"

"Why would you want a bloody marker, of all things? You bloody idiot, what-"

"Dude! I'm serious, it'll help!" Artie sighs and finally gives up. He runs inside the castle, looking for a black marker (but not in Alfred's room). He eventually finds one beside Gilbert's fireplace. He grabs it and hurries back outside, handing it to Alfred with an outstretched arm. Alfred thanks him.

Then he draw a face on the scarecrow's head.

Everybody is disgusted by his lack of art talent. Gilbert mutters something about it not being awesome, whereas Artie snatches the marker from Alfred and draws a much better looking face. Matthew and Roderich are relieved, until the scarecrow stars talking.

"Ah, hola guys," It speaks, with the mouth drawn upon its face as if talking is a perfectly normal thing to do. It grins awkwardly.

Arthur faints yet again.

* * *

"Lukas, Lukas! Ve~"

Lukas wakes up to His Majesty Feliciano Veneziano Vargas's strange verbal tick. He senses the nervousness in his tone. Something was bothering him...but what? He sits up straight in his chair, having slept upon his desk since the night before. Soon enough, Feliciano pushes the two huge doors that led to Lukas's garden, which Lukas almost applauds him for. It seems that Ludwig's training is paying off.

"Yes, sir? What is it you want?" He asks in a resigned tone. He'd learned how to pull off the perfect deadpan, having had years of practice with Matthias.

"Ve~ Lovi is frantic! He can't find Toni anywhere, ve. Ludwing told me he's going through the five stages of grief. He says he's already in the anger stage or something, and I don't even understand what he means, ve! You have to help, Lukas!" The words spill from the King's mouth as he waves his hands around, as if to give his words a deeper meaning. Lukas sighs.

"Alright, alright sir. I'll do whatever I can." He already knows just who to ask for help, taking out a piece of paper and dipping his quill into the well of ink beside it. Feliciano thanks him profusely, before running outside, saying something about cooking pasta to help with his nerves.

The quill makes noises against the paper as Lukas writes.

___Dear Alfred F Jones._

* * *

_There, crappy chapter again. So anyway, because of the response to the PruAus/no PruAus thing last chapter, I have decided that I wish to fulfill all of you guys' wishes, and thus I will sort of have moments which are sort of like bromance, and the ending for them will be open so you can decide whether they stay as friends or get together. I have an art tumblr, by the way, so I will upload the character designs sometime soon. Here's the link: missing-blank-circles . tumblr. com and I think you already know what to do. Ciao._

_noir_


End file.
